“Nary a spider here, fair Rosamond,” she called. “You may safely enter.”
“I know that you girls think I’m a dreadful scare-cat,” Rosamond declared. “But I just can’t help being afraid of things.”
“You’ll get over it,” Adele said kindly, “when you find that nothing hurts you. Now every one be seated and we will have the secretary read the minutes of the last meeting.”
Hats were tossed on the rustic couch, lunch-boxes stacked in a corner, and the seven girls sat tailor-wise on the floor.
“I deeply regret to have to inform you, Madam President,” Gertrude began with solemn dignity, “that your secretary forgot to bring the book, but she remembers that at the last meeting it was unanimously resolved that the Sunnyside Club should, singly and all together, do at least one kind deed a week. Has this resolve been carried out?”
“Dear me, no, I’m afraid not,” Adele said. “Fixing up the play-house for the orphan babies was the last kind deed on the records, and the credit for that belongs to Betty Burd.”
“Not at all!” Betty protested. “That was the whole club’s kind deed.”
“And how the kiddies are enjoying their play-house!” Gertrude declared. “I went over there last Sunday to read to them, and twenty happier babies it would be hard to find.”
“Good!” Adele exclaimed. “Now the question before the house is, What kind deed shall the Sunnyside Club do next?”
“You tell us,” Gertrude Willis said. “Adele, I just know that you have a suggestion to make.”